


The Batter's Adventures in Playerland

by bukkunkun



Series: The Player's Adventures in Offland [8]
Category: OFF (Game), OFF (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Other, Pillow Fights, Riding, Rough Sex, Roughhousing, Wall Sex, cutesy things, good endings happen yes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Batter finds himself in his Player's world, and on a whim between him and his Player, he decides to stay for a while.</p><p>And try to get used to living in a "normal world".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Off Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 written for a prompt on jerkin_off.
> 
> More chapters will be added on this, because people need cutesy oneshots of the Batter struggling through domestic life.
> 
> Also part of Offland series because Player shenanigans.

It happened way too fast for either of them to react, really. It had been a sort-of whim, the Player letting the Batter go onto the roller coaster for one more time (and for laughs, keep the seatbelt _off_ ) and there things, for a lack of a better term, roller-coastered out of control.

One minute they were laughing exuberantly, the next, a very real and solid Batter flew straight out of his seat in the roller coaster and right out of the laptop screen, crashing right into the hapless Player, who had literally no idea what just happened.

A moment of silence followed after that, and when their eyes met (two pairs of deep red against a normal pair) they stayed locked in each other’s gazes for approximately half a minu—

And the screaming began.

The Player was the first to scream, scrabbling for purchase to get away from the sudden projectile that flew out of their laptop, startling the Batter into screaming just as they did, for no particular reason other than delighted surprise upon finally ( _finally_!) seeing their mysterious Player’s face.

They had finally calmed down, though, after about another half of a minute, when the Player ran out of breath to scream out.

“… Batter?” they asked, blinking confusedly, leaning forward into the Batter’s face, bewildered. “… Is that really you?”

“I’m pretty sure,” the Batter replied, reaching for his Player, his fingers brushing their cheek gently, feather-light and soft. “… I’m here. In your world,” he breathed in wonder, his hands growing bolder, his hands splaying over his Player’s cheeks, tangling into their messy bed hair and in their large shirt, and—

“Whoa, there, buddy,” the Player spoke up, moving back, “Hands off the merch. I know you’re happy and all that we’re here, and _you’re freaking here_ , oh, my _God_ , but no touchy-feely. It’s weird.”

“… I’m sorry?” the Batter ventured, but the Player laughed, shaking their head.

“Oh, what the heck. You must be super thrilled we finally get to meet, yeah?”

The Batter blinked at them for a moment, before smiling slightly. “… Yeah.”

The Player grinned at him brightly and spread their arms. “Gimme a big one, then.”

Their loyal friend nodded, grinning brightly, rushing forward and pulling them into a tight hug.

“Not _that_ tight!” the Player choked out, and he immediately let go, panicked—but the Player laughed at him brightly, punching his arm lightly. “I’m glad to see you like this finally, too.”

The Batter smiled, and hugged his Player all over again.

\---

“Batter? Pass me scissors, please?”

“Here.”

“Cheezus Rice, _Batter!_ ”

The knife clattered to the ground, the blade embedding into the wooden planking of the floor an inch away from the Player’s foot. The two looked at each other for a moment, their eyes wide with horror, before the Player slowly bent down and picked the knife up.

“… Batter, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“I tell you everything.”

“… Really? Okay.” The Player walked up to the doorway to the living room, picking up the box of cereal on their way, and then faced the Batter, holding up the box. “What’s it say?”

“… Cheezus?” the Batter tried, and the Player rolled their eyes, shaking their head, resolutely walking over to their friend (now clad in more comfortable clothes, they had to rifle through the Player’s pass-me-down closet to find clothes that could fit him), arms akimbo.

“Batter,” they sighed exasperatedly, “Why didn’t you tell me you had bad eyesight?”

“Well, when I was back in the Zones, it wasn’t bad at all,” the man replied, and his Player shook his head.

“We’ve gotta see an optometrist.” They declared, but the Batter shook his head.

“No, we don’t have to; I’ll be fine.”

“You almost speared my foot with the knife trying to hand me the scissors, Batter.” The Player deadpanned, “We’re leaving. Now.”

“But I have four eyes!”

“And you’ll get eight when I’m done with you. C’mon.”

“Player!” he tried reasoning, but his Player glared at him sternly.

“Batter.” They simply said, and the Batter sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I’m coming.”

* * *

 

“… So. Four eyes.”

“Yes, Doc.”

“Well, this is certainly interesting.”

The Batter stayed resolutely silent the entire time they were outside—these people were so foreign to him, only his Player mattered to him. He would _not_ , absolutely _not_ talk to anyone else.

“Well then, come over here, young man, and let’s have a look at those.”

The Batter looked over to his Player, who gestured for him to listen to what the optometrist said. Sighing, he got up from his seat to stand where the optometrist told him to go.

“Hm. Red eyes.” The doctor commented, and the Batter used all four to glare at him. The optometrist chuckled, shaking their head, before gesturing at a backlit panel with varying letters in different sizes. “Y’know,” he said his Player’s name, “You have the most interesting friends.”

“Yeah, well, he’s different.” His Player replied, and the Batter looked over to them to see an amused grin on their face. Grumbling, he made a mental note to bitch at his Player about this later. For now, though…

“Right, I’m going to find out which pair works better, alright? Number one’ll be the top pair, and number two is the lower pair.”

The Batter nodded, closing his second pair of eyes, as the optometrist put on a strange-looking pair of glasses on him over his eyes. He jolted slightly, and the doctor reassured him with a pat on his arm. “Relax, this is how I’ll find out,” he assured, before gesturing at the letters. “Go on.”

“F… U… C… look, why do I have to do this?” he asked exasperatedly, as in the corner of his eyes he could see his Player doubled over on their seat, hands firmly clamped over their mouth to stifle the laughter spilling from them.

“Come on, it’s for your own good,” the optometrist assured, “It’s so I know how bad your eyes are. So c’mon, which is better, now, number 1 or 2?”

* * *

 

“These are contact lenses. They’re basically glasses that go onto your eye.”

“ _Onto_ the eye?” the Batter asked, his eyes wide. “How? They’re small glass lenses, and they go onto your eyes? Wouldn’t that be hideously inconvenient?”

“No, actually, people find contacts more convenient than glasses. I think you’d like them too, since you’re an athlete and all. Now, come here, I’ll show you how to put them on.”

The Batter looked to his Player, suddenly a little more than frantic at the thought of putting fingers into their eyes, but all he saw was his Player fighting hard to prevent laughter from escaping their mouth, their shoulders shaking with mirth as they watched the Batter struggle with his problem.

“You’re of no help.” He complained to his Player, and they waved him off.

“Oh, p-please,” they managed shakily between light giggles, “Let me be useless this time round.”

The Batter rolled his eyes, as the optometrist reached up, a contact lens on one finger. “You’d better have your hands pure, or—”

“Sterilised,” they assured him, before teaching him how to put the contacts on.

When they were done, the Batter blinked, unsure, all his four eyes shifting, unsure, looking around at the suddenly sharp view he had of the world. He could see all the vivid detail of the world around him—and best of all, he could see his Player’s face more properly now.

He looked to the optometrist, eyes wide, stars in them, and they chuckled.

“You’re welcome,” they nodded, as the Player chuckled, taking the Batter’s hand in theirs and pulling him outside.

* * *

 

“Player! Player!”

The Player, once half-asleep on the couch, jolted from their half-slumber and fell off in surprise. Groaning in pain, they stood up, annoyed, as the Batter rushed in (now wearing clothes that fitted him, they went shopping for clothes after the trip to the optometrist), eyes wild with panic.

“What is it, idjit?” the Player mumbled, rubbing their forehead.

“They said the contacts improve my eyesight! Why can’t I see properly?”

“Maybe you got the lenses wrong? I mean, you have four eyes…”

“I can’t get them in, either! The one on the left got in, but the one on the right just refused! I don’t understand how you can do this, this is too insane—”

The Player chuckled, shaking their head and cut the Batter off by planting a chaste kiss on his lips to shut him up.

“Got your attention now, have I?” they asked, and the Batter blinked at them, slowly nodding. “Good.” They grinned, “Now, I’m going to show you how to put them on _properly_ and you’ve got to pay attention. Then we’ll see what else we can do now that you can see.”

“ _Oui_ ,” the Batter replied on reflex, and his Player laughed.

“Eager boy. Come on.” With a smile, they took the Batter’s hand and led him to the bathroom. 


	2. Pillow Fights and Cheaters, Oh, My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Player introduces the Batter to the art of the pillow fight. Neither one holds back, and somehow it goes from smacking one another with pillows to fucking each other in the heaps of feathers and cases.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on jerkin_off, as always.
> 
> Also, this fic is now smexy. Whoop-dee-do.

“What are you doing?”

Giggling, the Player lowered the pillow in their hands and grinned up at the Batter mischievously, and the tall man frowned down at them, wiping his hands clean of contact lens cleanser on his jeans before putting them on his waist.

“Player?” he asked, and with only a snicker as a warning, his eyes widened as the pillow in his Player’s hands flew into his face. He didn’t even get a chance to react to the sudden attack as his Player, laughing brightly, launched their attack on him relentlessly, hitting him over and over again with the pillow. “Hey!” he yelled, swatting at his Player, annoyed, as he managed to grab their wrists and make the pillow fall to the ground. “Answer me, Player. What are you doing?”

The Player giggled brightly, and something in the Batter brightened up and he smiled slightly. “Pillow Fight.” They answered simply, before wriggling out of his grip, hurriedly picking up the pillow they dropped and running away. “I’m totally an expert on this, so you’d better shape up!” they blew a raspberry at the Batter, before running away, laughing brightly.

The Batter blinked after his Player, confused, until the ball dropped and he realised that his Player was challenging him to some duel that involved them hitting each other with pillows. A grin spread across his face.

He was an expert with the bat, what difference would a pillow be? He chuckled to himself, walking out of their bathroom with sureness in his step. This was going to be a piece of ca—

A pillow slammed into his face, and the Batter spluttered in surprise, and he got hit three more times, his face, his arm and his chest, before he managed to see his Player running down the corridor, laughing at him.

“Too slow, Batter, darling!” they teased, before disappearing around the corner to their living room.

Competitiveness overtook the Batter and a determined grin crossed his face. Well, if they were going to be like that, then two could play at this game.

* * *

Humming lightly to themselves, the Player fixed themselves a sandwich in the kitchen, thickly spreading Nutella on a piece of bread they toasted lightly, but they kept their weapon close to themselves as they worked—it was better to be safe than sorry, after all, and the Player wasn’t one who liked losing.

They peered around the kitchen suspiciously, making sure that the Batter wasn’t around, and with a light grin, they picked up the Nutella pseudo-éclair they made and raised it to their mouth—

And suddenly a small throw pillow slammed into the back of their head, making them slam the Nutella side of the bread into their face, the Player letting out a scream of both surprise at the attack and dismay at the waste of perfectly good Nutella.

There was a tap on their shoulder, and they turned around to see the Batter, smirking down at them, his bat resting on his shoulder, and another small pillow in his other hand.

“Asshole,” the Player bitterly mumbled, and the Batter laughed, leaning in to lick away the smear of Nutella on the tip of his Player’s nose. “You clean this up.”

“Do you want me to?” the Batter asked lowly, chuckling, and the Player shivered pleasantly as he licked away another dollop of Nutella on their cheek, right near the corner of their mouth.

“You made it, right?”

“Hm,” the Batter grinned, and for a moment the Player thought he really was going to do it—when his grin turned lecherous and he suddenly picked up his Player’s own pillow weapon and hit them at their side and their arms, earning him yells of protest as he laughed, tossing the pillow aside and hurrying to the doorway leading to their living room.

“One point for me,” he smirked, and the Player pouted at him as he left.

“Freakin’ jerk!” they yelled after him, before shaking their head, sadly looking down at the Nutella bread, and sighed. “One doesn’t simply _waste_ Nutella, goddamnit.”

* * *

The Batter felt somewhat proud of himself for evening out the competition. The Nutella thing was such a good idea, he thought to himself, grinning as he sat back on the couch; bat loosely in hand, throw pillow ammunition in the other. He stayed silent, keenly listening out for his Player, when he heard it—their socks lightly thumping against the ground, and his body tensed up, ready to fight—

And then suddenly his Player sauntered into the room, dressed only in his old tunic and a pair of his knee-high socks, which were slightly large for them and sagged rather beautifully on their legs.

The thought process in the Batter’s brain immediately shut down as his Player, hips a-swaying, made their way up to him, a coquettish smile on their face as they climbed into his lap, their hands smoothing over his shoulders seductively as soft thighs straddled his waist.

“Hello.” They purred, and the Batter’s throat went dry.

“Player.” He curtly nodded, intently keeping his eyes off his Player’s very suggestive appearance and instead focused on their face, where a mischievous half-smile adorned their lips and their eyes shone in such a manner that had _bad_ written all over it, and he felt his loins stir.

His Player giggled, and leant forward, pressing their foreheads together and a sweet scent flooded the Batter’s senses. Oh, _God_ , he thought to himself, as his hand let go of his bat and ammunition and rested on his Player’s waist.

“What if I told you that _maybe_ I’ve given up?” they asked sweetly, “And that I think I’ve been _very_ bad and I need to be punished?”

The Batter’s crotch twitched to life.

“Well, then,” the Batter swallowed, “What would you want me to do about it?” he asked, and his Player smiled at him.

“I dunno, what do _you_ want to do?” they whispered in his ear, and he shuddered in arousal and his hands gripped his Player’s waist tightly. “You can do _anything_ you like, Batter…” they licked the shell of his ear, “After all, since I’ve been such a _bad_ Player, I’m at your mercy to _purify_ however you like.”

The Batter looked up at his Player, and ran his hands up their sides slowly, sensually.

“Well then…” he began, but his Player giggled.

“I only said, what if, of course.” They suddenly spoke up, and the Batter’s eyes widened, and the next thing he knew he was being beaten mercilessly with the pillows he had intended to use as bat ammunition against his Player. Yelling out in both surprise and dismay, he backed away from his Player when they momentarily paused, hands up defensively.

“Now _that_ was cheating.” He frowned, and they laughed.

“Is not,” they replied, smirking, “One point for me, Batter darling,” they gestured at him with two fingers to come hither. “You’d better catch up.”

“Oh, will I,” the Batter growled, frustrated his arousal wasn’t being taken care of, but that wasn’t the issue right now, he told himself, as he picked up a nearby throw pillow and raised it. “This is a fight to the finish, my Player. Don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”

“Oh, try me.” they smirked, and the two of them launched into a flurry of blows against each other, the sounds of pillows dully thudding against their bodies filling the room, until they began to move around, and somehow they ended up duking it out in their bedroom, where there were more pillows to hit each other with.

Soon feathers were flying around and cases were left strewn on the floor, and when the two realised that they were out weapons to fight with, the Batter dove at his Player, knocking them both to the ground.

For a moment, they stared at each other, but then a grin spread across the Player’s face.

“So, I turned you on earlier, I see,” they snickered, raising a leg and rubbing it against the Batter’s crotch, earning them a groan from the man on top of them, and growling, the Batter leant in and pressed their lips together roughly, lips and tongue daunting and demanding as he raided his Player’s mouth.

Of course, with competitiveness running high, the Player fought back as well, and soon their tongues were caught in a duel with each other as they unconsciously began to rut against each other.

Parting, the Player squirmed beneath the Batter, but, smirking, the Batter held them down, and they smirked up at him. “Let me up top,” they demanded, but he leaned in close to their face, grinning.

“No. _I’m_ winning.” The Batter smirked as he used his knee to spread his Player’s legs, rubbing it sensually against their crotch, earning him a delicious moan from his Player. The Batter glanced down and grinned to find that his tunic had ridden up his Player’s body and he saw that they weren’t wearing underwear. “And it looks like you’re just as eager for this.”

“No freakin’ way.” The Player smirked, wriggling out of the Batter’s grip on their wrists before pulling him roughly in for a kiss, reaching down to fiddle with his pants. Parting from him forcibly, they frowned down at the jeans the Batter had on. “Off. Now.”

The Batter smirked, reaching down to his jeans and slowly undoing his fly.

“ _Batter_!” the Player growled, sitting up and smacking his hands away from his pants to do it themselves, pulling the man’s pants and underwear down, freeing his already-hard cock.

“You lose,” the Batter smirked, pulling his shirt off before leaning forward again, pinning his Player down in the midst of the feathers strewn around them, rubbing his crotch against theirs, his smile widening in pleasure and appreciation at the sight of his Player groaning in frustration at his slow ministrations.

“Cheating bastard,” the Player growled, pushing him off them suddenly with a strength the Batter had rarely acquainted with, before clambering on top of him, a smirk on their face. “I’ll show you who’s boss,” they growled, before grabbing hold of the Batter’s cock and pressing it against their lubricated entrance.

The Batter smirked. “ _Someone_ thought this through.”

“Shut up,” the Player snapped at him, “Do you know how much a turn-on putting your clothes on for me is?”

“No, do elaborate.” The Batter smirked, before thrusting up without warning into his Player, earning him a gasp of pleasure and surprise, and it was all the Batter needed to turn the tables again, grabbing hold of his Player’s hips and lifting them off and on his cock, thrusting up to meet them, coercing moans from his Player’s parted lips, his tunic slipping off their right shoulder as they bounced on top of the Batter’s cock.

“Goddamn cheat,” the Player managed to say despite the intense pleasure running through them, and gritting their teeth to concentrate, they begun gyrating their hips as they came down onto the Batter’s stiff member. This made the Batter’s eyes widen as a completely new sensation came crashing through him, and this made him growl in arousal as he suddenly stood up, carrying his Player with him and pressing them against the wall, and started thrusting anew, going deeper and deeper at the new angle he was going at, earning him loud gasps of pleasure from his Player as he fucked them up the wall.

“ _You’re_ the cheat,” he growled into their ear as he gripped their legs tightly, thrusting up into their hot, welcoming body, revelling in the delicious pressure and heat on his cock as his Player’s walls squeezed his cock. He could feel his Player’s orgasm approaching, and he smirked into the crook of their neck.

“First one to come loses,” he lowly told them, his voice gravelly, deep and gritty and oh-so-sexy, just the way his Player _loved_ it—

“Batter!” his Player gasped, and they toppled over their orgasm, their body convulsing against his, their walls clamping down onto his cock, and with a groan, the Batter shoved himself deep into his Player before coming, spurting hot semen into his Player.

Panting, he lowered his Player and himself and he sat down on the ground, wincing as he gently pulled out of his Player.

As soon as he did, he got a smack to his head, and he grinned, looking up at his Player, who was frowning at him.

“You cheated,” they accused, “And you’re going to get me new pillows.”

“Maybe next time,” the Batter dismissed. “Let’s take a bath?” he gestured at the bathroom, and his Player huffed, crossing their arms and getting up, wincing slightly as the Batter’s come oozed out of their entrance, and with a light waddle they made their way to the bathroom. “How about together, Player?” the Batter called after them.

Their response was a pillow flying into the Batter’s face.


End file.
